Spring baptism

You know when you have to go and you just don't want to. Maybe it's because you're camping or maybe you're at some professional sporting event, whichever, whatever the reason, the bathrooms just aren't agreeable. Who can do their business when the environment isn't right?
As an almost-four month old puppy, Root Beer has experienced some forbidding weather. Her first foray into puppy training was in the front of the house on a -50 day (with the windchill). She didn't like peeing in a snow but she did it. After a couple weeks of going outside in less than mild temperatures, Root Beer and I both got used to running out and back in just as fast as we could go.
Today it was a different story. Our routine is always the same. I wake up. Root Beer wakes up. I open the gate to her crate. She sits and thinks about getting up. I find one of my fuzzy, warm bathrobes. I search for a tie to secure the robe and Root Beer stretches. We wander over to the stairs and I pick the dog up. (She doesn't like to exert herself in the morning). Down the stairs we travel and to the front door we go. I open the door. I grab any pair of shoes that linger there and a white kitchen garbage bag and follow Root Beer out.
She runs the Indy 500 around Luke's winter fort. She checks out the pine cones on the ground and wrestles with the ornamental blue spruce tree. She loses yet another round with the 20-year-old behemoth but gives it one final shake to say, "I'll get you next time." Finally, and with great ceremony, Root Beer does her business.
This morning I had to plunk Root Beer in the puddle forming on my front step. She whined. She cried and she refused to move.
I picked her up. I carried her to the fort. She sniffed and lifted her paws delicately off the icy snow. Both of us were being pelted with raindrops. Root Beer shimmied next to my legs. This was a dog that wanted to be outside less than I wanted to. Still, I was stern, the alternative to a quick visit to the tree in the rain was a warm visit to a spot on the carpet. I waited.
Finally she deposited what she needed to by the old spruce. Without a backward glance at her favourite spots she walked to the front door. Her training so far is to wait with a sit and then we go in. She looked at me with reproach as I ambled up the door and then she sat in a puddle a half-inch deep and waited with a look that said, "What kind of cruel woman are you?" I just thought of my carpet and smiled.